Hell's Pawn

by Jay Bell

  For a moment, L ucifer wavered. J ohn was sure a hug was in the making, but the Devil regained control of himself before that could happen. “I must see to my people,” he said, turning toward the door. “Dante, R immon, excellent work. You will be rewarded.”

  “I have a few things in mind,” Dante said, following him out the door.

  “I must check on Uriel,” R immon said, pausing on his way out to look at J ohn, “Are you coming?”

  “In a moment.”

  Yahweh waited patiently, knowing that J ohn wished to speak with him. He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to know. Was there a limit? Was it like a genie’s wishes where he would only get three?

  “W hy do things this way?” J ohn began. “The different leaders were always on your side. Why not have them bring their armies here, rather than the disappearing act?” Yahweh’s smile was kind. “The M inisters of O rder took advantage of rifts that had long ago formed between religions and cultures. The plan of my very clever son has made it possible for those rifts to be bridged, once and for all. Had I called the other pantheons here, some may have come grudgingly, others not at all. I nstead we asked the leaders to step aside. W ithout the leaders of each realm, the remaining gods were forced to make their own decisions. Now those gods have come, even more than we expected. Had it not been for your efforts, the outcome of the current ba le may have been similar, but the aftermath would have been vastly different.” J ohn nodded, even though he didn’t fully understand. “W hen I was in P urgatory, the creatures in charge, their hearts were—”

  “I know,” Yahweh said sadly. “M an learned long ago to give his own words credence by claiming they were mine. M any of them meant well, and some good has come of it, but there are those who search for meaning through cold words instead of the warmth of their heart. J ust as there have been divisions here, there have been many on E arth. Too many. Perhaps the effects of today’s events will be far-reaching enough to change things there as well. As above, so below.”

  “Can’t you just, I don’t know, fix everything? I mean, you’re God!”

  “E ven if I could, I wouldn’t, for what would I fix it to, and for whom? M yself? There is never one singular path, never one lonely truth. That is the biggest lie ever told.

  E xistence is wonderfully strange, frighteningly varied, and above all, beautiful. No, I am much happier to let the story play out on its own, to truly feel proud when my children choose to do what is right.”

  J ohn smiled, another question ready on his lips, but then his head swam. He fell to one knee and inhaled, really breathed in, for he could feel his lungs. They were still far away, but close enough that he could smell the sterile hospital air. His body was coming out of the coma, waking up, calling him home.

  “Not yet, not yet,” Yahweh said, placing a hand on J ohn’s head. “Don’t you want to stay for the ending?”

  John’s world stabilized again, his awareness returning to the cottage.

  Yahweh put an arm around him and guided him to the door. “Come, Bolo!” he said.

  The snoozing dog instantly awoke and hopped off the bed to join them.

  O utside the ba le had run its course. A couple of glass skeletons had yet to fall and a number of M inisters could be seen running for the hills, but the worst of it was over.

  J ohn scanned the crowd, hoping no serious losses had occurred. He saw L iu W u—li le Yi Yi riding on his shoulder—being clapped on the back by Ares. The king’s features were proud as he and the war god exchanged congratulations. E lsewhere, Hermes zipped through the crowd, shaking hands with the surprised deities he appeared before. Thor was one of them, interrupted in his a empts to flirt with Amaterasu. Not far away, Cernunnos watched a group of animal-headed Egyptian gods with interest.

  There didn’t seem to be any mourning, or fallen allies. I n fact, the only unhappy face J ohn could see was Asmoday. The Archduke stomped through the crowds, trying to rally tempers toward Heaven again until he spo ed the Devil himself. Then Asmoday fell to his knees, his many chins quivering as he splu ered a mixture of apologies and pledges of loyalty. J ohn smirked and searched the scene for his own demon. There, in the center of the ba lefield, stood R immon, an angel at his side.

  R immon laid a hand on Uriel’s shoulder, and the angel placed his palm against the demon’s cheek. As they kissed, John allowed himself one last sigh.

  Then the land beneath his feet began to rise, taking the co age with it. S oon all eyes were on him, B olo, and Yahweh. The old god clapped his hands in joy, as if he had witnessed a wonderful play, before he beckoned for the others to join him. O ne by one the different aspects of G od, along with the leaders of every realm, walked up the newly formed hill. There were even more pantheons represented now, deities from other realms who had decided to join late in the battle.

  “There are many reasons why we have come together today,” Yahweh addressed the crowd, his voice loud enough for all to hear. “The enemy vanquished here was more than an army of glass men. The true enemy was division taken too far. W hat we have conquered today is fear and suspicion, and now they must be replaced with respect and unity. As our differences benefi ed us on the field of ba le, so can they enhance our everyday existence, for diversity tempered with love instead of hate is infinitely giving and supportive. The time has come for our many islands to join together, to create a world of many different roads and bridges, one where all are welcome and where every soul is home.”

  The crowd cheered as the different aspects of G od moved to join one another.

  Yahweh, J esus, Allah, J ehovah, and the Holy S pirit stepped into each other, becoming one deity instead of many. The leaders of the other realms followed next: R a, O din, Danu, one after the other merging and becoming a being of the brightest, purest light.

  Finally only L ucifer was left, cockily motioning for the being of light to come to him instead. It did, wrapping its arms around him lovingly and taking him in.

  Then everything changed.

  * * * * *

  They had all gone home, which is to say, they hadn’t gone anywhere, since ‘here’

  was all there was. From the co age on the hill they could see it all. The strange lights of Heaven wavered on the horizon. B ehind them was majestic Mount Olympus. To the south could be seen the cities of Hell, and to the west a glimmering blue ocean filled with the C eltic isles. O ther places were out there, too, exotic buildings and strange environments J ohn had never seen or imagined. The realms were connected now, separate but without borders, and beyond them was the wild astral plane where dreams had yet to be born. J ohn wanted nothing more than to explore all of this.

  Except he didn’t have much time left.

  The leaders had separated again, their display of unity over, but the significance behind their gesture would be remembered for all eternity. O ne by one, they guided their people home, although many chose to move on to other realms, to experience something new. Yahweh had been the last to leave, conjuring up patio furniture in front of his cottage before giving John and his friends their privacy.

  Yahweh had promised J ohn just enough time to see the results of his efforts and to say goodbye to his friends. That moment had come. S oon J ohn’s body would come out of its coma, returning him to the land of the living, but not quite yet. R immon sat closest to J ohn, the demon’s expression content, while Dante struggled with the awkwardness of the situation. B olo was there too, sleeping on his back with his four legs spread wide.

  “Did you manage to get much out of L ucifer?” J ohn asked, hoping to jump-start the conversation.

  Dante grinned. “Actually, yes. I wanted a place to live, preferably in demonic Amsterdam, and he mentioned a sprawling apartment above a pub. I t barely took any begging at all to have him include the pub as part of the deal.”

  “So you’re going into business, then?” Rimmon asked.

  “No,” Dante said, “I ’m selling it for money and on the condition that I can drink th
ere for free whenever I want. I’m not going to spend my afterlife working!” John chuckled. “What about you?”

  “A promotion,” R immon answered. “O ne that doesn’t require the use of my natural talents, which should be enough for Uriel to fully forgive me. I ’m looking forward to a new challenge, but I believe I’ll take some time off before I begin.” J ohn gave him a knowing look. “I heard the angels have been given time off, too, since they’ve been patrolling nonstop for so many years.” Rimmon smiled. “That is very convenient, yes.”

  “And, uh, what are you going to do?” Dante asked, not making eye contact.

  “I don’t know,” J ohn said. “Wake up, shower, eat, go to work. The usual things, I suppose. I t all seems a li le unreal, to be honest, which is crazy considering where I am. Jace was right. Being here makes life sound like a fairy tale.”

  “You’ll get caught up in it soon enough,” R immon said. “P hysical existence can be wonderfully distracting.”

  “J ust don’t go starting any creepy cults,” Dante said. “Unless they worship me, that is. Hey, maybe we can work something out! I hear believers are as good as cash over here!”

  “What about Bolo?” John asked, reaching down to stroke his belly. “Do you think—” J ohn slipped from his chair and fell, but he couldn’t stop falling. There was nothing to grab hold of anymore, nothing solid. The world around him had disappeared.

  “Best of luck, kid,” he heard Dante say, but his voice was far away and distorted.

  “We can’t choose who we love,” R immon’s voice was barely a whisper, “but if we could, I would love—”

  J ohn awoke with a gasp, the tube in his throat jostling painfully in his esophagus.

  E very nerve screamed with sensation and his body felt terribly heavy, but J ohn’s mind was still elsewhere. He thought of Dante, his schemes and sarcasm. He saw B olo’s happy face in his mind. And of course he thought of everything he loved about R immon. J ohn willed himself to return, just for one minute more, just to say goodbye properly and to have one last laugh.

  “John?”

  The voice belonged to his mother.

  John managed to open his eyes. The world seemed much too bright.

  “John! You’re awake! Oh, thank God, you’re awake!”

  She threw herself over him and together they cried, each for very different reasons.

  Epilogue

  “You’re a silly old fool, John Grey.”

  He said this to his reflection in the mirror, and it had never been truer than today.

  J ohn was old. He scoured his image, searching for a single square inch of skin that wasn’t covered in wrinkles or hadn’t been stretched by ninety-two years of gravity. He remembered those first gray hairs, how upse ing they had been, which was laughable now that his hair was wispy and white. A hair hearty enough to be gray would have been a welcome sight. Even the color of his eyes had grown pale and misty.

  J ohn stopped scrutinizing himself and turned away from the mirror. S eeing his reflection only made him feel more ancient. His body had enough aches and pains to remind him of how many long years he had lived. Almost all of them were good, he considered as he hobbled down the stairs of his home, taking one at a time. S o many years full of life and love.

  He paused halfway down the stairwell, as he always did, to look at the framed photo of S co . He had been J ohn’s physical therapy coach, helping him recover from the weakness left by the coma. S co had been there from the beginning, kindly guiding him back to health. J ohn had barely noticed him the first week they worked together, his mind lost in everything he had left behind and so desperately wanted to return to. B ut when J ohn finally focused on life again, S co ’s bright smile won him over completely. S uddenly, J ohn’s heart found a new adventure, one that had lasted all of these years.

  J ohn brought a shaking hand to his mouth, kissed the tips of his fingers, and pressed them to S co ’s lips in the photo before continuing down the stairs. He and S co had seen so many interesting times together. There were wars, as there always were, but there was also a subtle change. R eligion once again became a comfort in those hard times. Not just one faith, but all of them, for believers began to open their arms to each other, to embrace the ideas and opinions of their fellow human beings. As one pope famously said during this period, you can never have too much of a good thing. There were still divisions among people. There always would be, but no longer were they created by the spiritual institutions meant to provide hope.

  J ohn reached the bo om of the stairs, gripping the banister with gnarled fingers until he caught his breath. His body was giving him a harder time than usual today. He could hear S co ’s voice in his mind, crystal clear even though it had been two years since he had passed, chiding J ohn for not ge ing enough exercise. He would be right, of course, as S co always had been. L ately J ohn had been content to sit and think of the past, often drifting off to sleep no matter the hour.

  J ohn gathered his strength and moved to the couch, sighing with relief when he was finally seated. His old bones shifted and se led, grateful for the comfort the thick cushions provided. O n the coffee table was a scrapbook, the corners of the pages curled from so much use. John pulled it onto his lap and opened the worn cover.

  I nside was everything he had been able to find. A newspaper clipping for Dante Stewart’s obituary was on the opening page, the first piece of evidence John had found that proved he wasn’t crazy. S co hadn’t known back then, but had humored J ohn when they took their trip to Dublin. J ohn spent an entire day at the public library, searching through old newspaper obituaries until he found it. Dante S tewart had died on O ctober 16, 1983, in what the paper described as a “violent incident outside a pub.” S co had blocked him from the librarian’s sight as J ohn tore Dante’s obituary out of the paper. A few days later, they visited the home of Dante’s mother.

  That had been awkward. J ohn had been a toddler when Dante died, and despite lying about his age, it wasn’t easy to convince his mother that they once knew each other. He didn’t dare explain where they had met, but he knew enough of the I rishman’s quirks to convince her in the end, even though she remained puzzled.

  B efore J ohn left, she gave him a photo of Dante, which was now in the scrapbook next to the obituary. Dante was younger than J ohn had ever known him, his constant stubble absent, but the ornery eyes were unmistakable.

  J ohn turned the pages. L i le else was as personal as this first page. There were clippings about religion and mythology, an excerpt from Milton’s Paradise L ost that mentioned R immon, and different artistic interpretations of an incubus—anything J ohn could find to help remind him of the memories he had made. W hen J ohn had finally told S co everything, years later of course, the scrapbook was his biggest piece of evidence. J ohn was never completely sure if his husband believed him, but S co loved him enough not to say if he didn’t. J ohn supposed that S co was seeing all of it for himself now.

  Toward the back of the scrapbook was a photo of B olo. Not the E nglish S hepherd, naturally, but a yellow lab they had named M arx. I n the sixteen years that M arx was a part of their lives, J ohn was reminded of B olo nearly every day. He often wondered if the dog hadn’t found his way back to him, as Rimmon once promised he could.

  J ohn sighed and closed the scrapbook, which felt too heavy on his lap now. The morning sun had slowly moved across the floor and reached part of the couch. J ohn set the scrapbook aside and stretched out, laying his head in the warmth of the sun and pulling his favorite quilt over the rest of him. Funny that he should still need a blanket, even in the middle of summer.

  For a moment, as he was dozing off, J ohn thought he heard S co ’s voice calling him, could feel his husband’s fingers interlocking with his own. W ith his touch, J ohn didn’t feel old anymore. The aches and pains had gone as memories returned clearer than ever. B uildings made of light and sound, gods he had once fought alongside, and the friends that had journeyed with him through colo
rful realms. He could see their faces now and hear their voices, because they were all around him, everyone he had missed from this life and the other, welcoming him home again.

  Also by Jay Bell:

  Something Like Summer

  L ove, like everything in the universe, cannot be destroyed. B ut over time it can change.

  The hot Texas nights were lonely for B en before his heart began beating to the rhythm of two words; Tim W yman. B y all appearances, Tim had the perfect body and ideal life, but when a not-so-accidental collision brings them together, B en discovers that the truth is rarely so simple. I f winning Tim’s heart was an impossible quest, keeping it would prove even harder as family, society, and emotion threaten to tear them apart.

  S omething L ike S ummer is a love story spanning a decade and beyond as two boys discover what it means to be friends, lovers, and sometimes even enemies. This full-length, gay romance novel is available in paperback, Kindle, Nook, and other eB ook formats.

  For more information, please see:

  www.jaybellbooks.com

  Also by Jay Bell:

  The Cat in the Cradle

  Dueling with mad magicians, ba ling possessed beasts, and surviving endless hostile landscapes? Easy. Loving someone you weren’t supposed to? That was hard.

  A faceless killer terrorizes the Five L ands, one set on killing the ten O ligarchs, masters of elemental magic. I t is from this murderer that Dylan, son of the B lue O ligarch, is forced to flee. O nly Tyjinn, a brash and unpredictable bodyguard, stands between Dylan and certain death. R ather than play it safe, Tyjinn makes an unusual proposal; to hunt the hunter. This isn’t the only unorthodox idea he puts forth as an a raction blooms between the two young men. I n the midst of uncountable obstacles and unforgiving odds, can Dylan really afford to recognize his own feelings?

  The C at in the C radle is J ay B ell’s debut fantasy novel. The novel takes the reader on an exploration of the Five L ands and the different realms of the strange and fantastic O ligarchs. E ach O ligarch possesses a different colored loka that enables them to wield a unique style of magic. Dylan, aided by his talking cat Kio, must prevent the lokas from falling into the hands of a power hungry killer before the Five L ands is brought to its knees.